Never Pressing Needs
by Good Evening
Summary: Ichiru-centred prequel to 'After the Epilouge.' Ichiru faces Death after dying in his brother's arms, but when confronted, gets quite defensive over whether or not the man is very important to him. I had somewhat of a vision of incest for this one.


Normally, I don't put a bar up here like this, but I felt somewhat guilty for having done a fic that's only about 2,000 words, so here we are. _This involves alomst solely Ichiru, Death, and Zero, (to an extent) and there's very little in the way of actual 'yes-ness-ohmigodthey'refucking-ness', so please don't be too disappointed to me._ I felt I owed Ichiru something, considering he got almost completely fucked in _After the Epilouge_... I do like it when he's happy, though. I like all of them to be a little happy; just not to the point where they're in love and I get bored (still can't quite grasp the concept of there being true, loving, gay relationships in _Vampire Knight_.) I can totally see Takuma swooning over Shiki, but in every fantasy I have about that, the Kuran ends up dead. Which happens often in my other fantasies, too. Huh...

Enjoy.

* * *

Ichiru's experience with Death was, for the most part, a textbook example. Coffee and a walk in a calm, sorrowful setting. It was supposed to be a little lonely, after all, though it did get a little crowded if you ever walked into one of those godforsaken hospitals. The twin was quite right when he spoke of how people saw Death. For some, it was a doctor or a nurse, for others it might have been a professor, a manager, or, in Ichiru's case, a fairly bright paper-pusher. In some cases, it had no choice but to take more unpleasant forms, in several Baptist cases, the devil. Because that was what they had expected. Death had a fairly easy personality when it came to breaking the news: it showed you what you wanted to see. Sometimes it was a comfort, other times, not so much. One man from an institution—a sweet little schizophrenic—wanted to see a fairy. So Death essentially strapped on the wings and jumped into a tutu, walked with him, talked with him, spotted unicorns with him before he joined his wife and child. She had forgiven him for doing what he had done, and Death didn't press anything on the subject when it saw him fold into her arms, sobbing, cradling their little girl like he'd done just before holding her under the water. Oh, Death knew, but again, it never pressed, and it never did anything you didn't expect.

The reason Ichiru's experience was only _for the most part_ was because he'd done the scene. He'd expected to die. What he hadn't expected was anything beyond that. For the small part, Ichiru was strange because he honestly didn't expect anything to happen to him beyond dying in Zero's arms, folded in the memory of a woman he knew he'd never chance seeing again. He hadn't been incredibly religious, so he didn't expect to see some tall balding oldster in a white robe. Nor had he expected a sharply-dressed man with a goatee and horns. All in all, he was pretty blah. So when he finally saw the coffee cart and the absence of his brother, (as well as the wound the bastard had inflicted) he was, for the most part, surprised. But he basically thought, What the Hell, I'm dead, how could it possibly get worse. So he poured another cup out of courtesy, and waited for whoever would show up so fashionably late.

Short blackish hair, small stature, a bit of a belly, and the five o' clock shadow that suggested having stayed late at the office to finish up, and then waking up late to compensate for sleepless, caffeinated hours, was how Ichiru saw Death. Once again, a man who had probably been at the office a bit after the bell, maybe handling even Zero's paperwork and assignments.

"Good afternoon." He'd said a little cheerily. Ichiru sipped his milkless coffee while he watched the man spoon a lump of sugar into his cup from a little platter that had most certainly not been there before. Not that _he_ would have used it. He was a man: he took his coffee black.

"Good afternoon." Ichiru had responded quietly. He knew what this was, he just felt a little… grey. No bad brother, no good lover: he was neutral. The man turned his head up to look at him for a moment, the spoon stirring the sugar in stopping slowly. His blue eyes shone,

"Should I call you Mr. Kiriyu or…" He trailed off, the spoon holding still.

"… Ichiru is fine." He smiled, and kept stirring, looking back at his cup. Ichiru watched him behind the rim of his mug, almost using the cheap ceramic as a shield between his would-be body and the newcomer. So the afterlife wasn't as glamorous and grandiose as most people pegged it to be; so what?

The man was a little stocky, and had something of a nervous twitch: he kept glancing up from his coffee every few seconds, as if he wanted to say something, or wanted him to say something. Ichiru just kept staring at him, sipping every now and then. He felt more confident.

"So, how does this work, exactly?" He finally asked. The man looked at him solidly for a few moments, a little stunned that he'd at last decided to talk.

"Well," He played with the handle of his cup. Ichiru vaguely wondered if this was his first time, "usually people have some subject haunting them," he took a sip, and things seemed to tilt; he stared at Ichiru inquiringly, casually, used to the scene, "but I don't think you want to talk about those quite yet." He took one last sip, not taking his eyes off the boy, placed his mug squarely on the trolley and then, clasping his hands together with a bit of a clap, said "So. I was thinking we'd go over some of the basics. You ought to know what you've gotten into." Ichiru took his mug with him. The man did the same.

"The basics, I'm guessing, are the Purgatory, Heaven, Hell concepts?" The man smiled,

"Not quite." Ichiru looked sceptical for a moment, not sure what to make of the short, smiling man. "You're in Limbo, my boy." Not Catholic, Ichiru's

"Eh?" didn't surprise or cause Death to stumble in the slightest.

"Technically speaking, you're neither here nor there. But to clarify, there is no here or there," he smiled, "just this," and took a sip from his cup.

Ichiru slowed down while they walked, almost coming to a stop before he realised the man might have been waiting on him. "So, am I ever going to get out of 'this'? Is there something maybe better?" He thought of his Mistress and brother, and Death turned to him, eyes flashing violet as they caught some light,

"I could say so. You know who you're waiting for, right?" Ichiru looked at him blankly,

"What?"

"Shizuka had her lover waiting for her all those years she hunted Mr. Kuran and your brother. He was here, pleasant and patient as the day is bright. He was fairly forgiving about your little affair, thought it was cute, actually. When she got here and we finished" He motioned to the two of them, "this little thing, she ran towards him and held him tightly as I think anyone could." He sighed at the romance, though he seemed his cheery self instead of the dreaminess he suggested, thoroughly unaffected. Then he looked at Ichiru pointedly, "I need you to know who you're waiting for before I can go. But you know already for the most part, don't you?" Violet again. Of course Ichiru knew. He didn't dare say anything though, even as Death continued to stare at him, trying very hard stop the smile shining on his lips.

"And if I don't?" His smile grew a little more,

"Why don't you tell me a little about what you felt when you…" He made a wheeling motion with his hand, coffee gone and the cup hanging limply at his side.

"… What do you mean?" Ichiru had no intention of talking about what he thought of this. Truthfully, he was a little irked the man wouldn't just leave him alone.

"I can't leave you until you understand a few things. As soon as we're finished, I'll be gone," he trailed off a bit, "but of course, if you ever have any questions, you can come right back to me." He finished his own coffee and left it on a large block of stone, putting his hands in his slacks' pockets.

"I'm not waiting for anyone," Ichiru said unemotionally. He kept walking even though Death had settled on a tree stump. The short man looked quizzically at him, violet eyes mirroring something that the younger most certainly did _not_ want to face. He eyed Ichiru as the boy stepped over some low-laying brush,

"I think you want to. Desperately." His smile was a little twisted and tight, pulled awkwardly across his lips as he waited for the teenager to fruitlessly defend himself. The twin glanced at him, and then couldn't take his eyes away. Death leaned back, tilting his head so he faced the stars, exposing a ravaged neck, "What if we talk about who you most want? That's usually a good start in figuring it out." Stunned, the boy dropped his cup. Light hair, light eyes, a rumpled, bloodstained shirt… Death looked him straight on, eyes flashing, "What _do_ you want?" Ichiru fumed,

"**Stop it**," and clenched his fists. The man jumped gracefully from his place and sauntered over, making sure the boy saw the gaping tear on his neck,

"Everybody keeps their obsessions and resolves. Your memories, weaknesses, strengths—" He leaned into the clean neck of his counterpart, "they never go away." Ichiru punched him hard, sending him sprawling on debris and bracken. He rubbed his face, now simple and a little red, cerulean eyes looking up in a daze.

"I will** never** wait for **him**." The twin said through grating teeth. He waved his hand a bit to knock away the sting, and watched the man get up and stumble around a bit before grabbing a tree and getting stable.

"Everybody waits for something," he said, almost attempting to smack away the stars he saw,

"I'll find Lady Shizuka," Death looked upon him with pity,

"I've already told you she can't be disturbed."

"I'll do it! I'll look everywhere, and I'll find her!" People like this enjoyed being difficult, and it was always a task to get them to understand the rules. Most of them turned out to be great in upper management.

"You can do anything you want, go anywhere you want, but she won't be there." His eyes were violet again, "You'll save yourself so much trouble if you'd ju—"

"SHOVE IT!!!" The boy screamed hoarsely, voice cracking at the end. He was only sixteen. "I will **never** follow him again." Death was a little nonplussed. He took advantage of the moment and stepped quietly behind the boy, brushing his hair,

"You'll know what you need, eventually." He smiled; the boy knew these hands. Knew them from holding them in bed and from being held by them, cradled as he pretended to forgive in all of his tiredness. Zero had destroyed him before they were born. He should have cried with joy when he found his brother wouldn't be long after him, if any real time passed at all.

Of course, the twin rounded on him, but Death stepped aside courteously, and didn't press any more than necessary with this one. Ichiru had been blinded by what he _wanted_, let alone, what he thought he_ needed_. It would probably be a very long time until he realised what he truly had to have. If he needed to learn this lesson the hard way, then so be it. The only obligation Death had was to hand him the rule book and give him an ice cream cone to make him feel better, (after several cases of lactose intolerance and one involving peanut allergies and a double-nut chocolate cluster, they'd revoked the latter.) It appeared the only way to get him to understand was for him to truly be without his other part. But he had an idea of what it was like to lose someone so close to that extent. Death just hoped he could handle the loneliness a little longer.

"… Why don't we talk about your remains, now?"


End file.
